We were strong and we were proud. We did as we pleased, and we made our own choices. We were young, raging bulls. Fences were meant to be trampled, and our motto was "Wound or be wounded." Pride sounds good as it resonates in a crowd, but alone in the darkness, we could hear the rustlers. We slipped through their talons and ran for our lives. As if our steps were strategically directed, we slipped through snares and traps. We were tired and we were weak, and we felt that we could go no more. Then we saw the glow. The glow of the fire, the glow of face, the glow of the hot metal, and the glow of the dawning day. Everything in our flesh cried out, "Run!" Yet, still, we were drawn to that glow. The God of the Universe was wooing us. Decisions were made and one by one in states of vulnerability, we rendered ourselves unto him. We died. Not a physical death, but our hopes, dreams, endeavors, our pride, arrogance, independence, our hurt, shame, and sickness all died, right then and there. He called, and we followed. We approached the glowing fire and were fully aware of the glowing metal. We knew what it was and what it represented. Knowing, we followed. We wanted His mark. We wanted to belong to Him. We wanted Him to leave the 99 to find us. We wanted under His covering, and we wanted His mark. We could smell the iron and feel the heat, yet we invited the pain. The burn seemed almost unbearable as we could smell our burning flesh. We knew we were being changed. We knew we were now marked. We knew we had been Branded By God.